


Let's Play Webtoon Spirit Week!

by ayadn



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayadn/pseuds/ayadn
Summary: Short one shots inspired by the webtoon spirit week themes on their instagram..PJ Day - Working from home meant constant video calls with Charles....and forgetting to wear proper work attire..Pet Day - Sam finds an abandoned kitty but her apartment has a one pet policy. Charles takes pity and adopts the cat..Hat Day - Though Wales may be cold, the Welshman by her side is anything but..Character Day - Sam would never wear something so daring, but Angela made such beautiful costumes for their cosplay that she just had to wear it. Luckily no one from the office would see her, right?.Green Day - "Kiss me," he says, grin all sly. "I'm one-eighth Irish.".BONUS CHAPTER - The first kiss didn't work. But that's fine, because it means they'll just have to try 7 more times.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 200





	1. Pajama Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working from home meant constant video calls with Charles....and forgetting to wear proper work attire.

It was only the first week of quarantine and Charles had already created an efficient way to make sure business moved as usual, even with the majority of them working from home.

His first order of business: group video calls first thing every working morning at 8:30 _sharp_. He’d said it was a way to motivate everybody to wake up and start their day early, while also having a clear direction of the tasks that needed to be done. “I don’t expect productivity to lessen just because we will be working from home.” he had said as a parting on their last day at the office.

Sam had always been punctual at work, and working from home had made no difference. If her boss said to be present at 8:30 sharp, then she would be on at 8:15 with her coffee mug on her left and her planner on her right.

Last night however, she may have gamed a little too hard, finally going to bed at 4 in the morning. But in her defence, a new DLC was released and all her gaming buddies were online and ready to play. She just couldn’t have passed on the opportunity and totally miss out on the group chat convos the next day. She owed it to her little gaming heart to at least check out the DLC and maybe play for an hour or so. But the hour turned into hours and next thing she knew the first rays of sunlight started creeping into her blinds.

Being jolted awake by Bowser’s cold nose, she checked the time on her phone, jumping out of bed upon realization that it was already 8:22. Barely remembering to put her glasses on, she ran towards her computer table and rushed to open the video call application. And of course, because computers can sense fear, her normally fast, normally never-lags-even-when-she-played-all-those-games-that-take-up so-much-memory computer suddenly decided to buffer when loading a simple video chat app. Sam checked the time again. Eight twenty-five. “Oh _come on_ you good for nothing old piece of scrap! I’m so gonna replace you with your better, newer, younger sis-”

“Good morning, Miss Young.” Charles greeted, coffee in hand. Even when at home, he still had his hair slicked back and wore a white long sleeved shirt. He didn’t have a tie on though, and he left the first two buttons undone. Which Sam appreciated very much.

“G-good morning, Charles!” she said, slumping down into her chair.

“Had a late night?” he asked, well aware of Sam’s usual punctuality. Although they were still the only two people on the chat, knowing that the rest of the team usually liked to log on at _exactly_ 8:30, mostly to spite his request of being present at 8:30 sharp, he knew that Sam always logged on early. Even earlier than him. And she usually had all her things prepared on the desk in front of her, and she most certainly was never in this state of undress.

“A bit.” She fiddled with the straps of her camisole and looked anywhere but at the screen, feeling uncomfortable at his scrutiny. Despite having their computer screens between them, she could still feel the burn of his stare on her skin.

“Miss Young,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I think it’d be best to wear something more proper before the others join us.”

Looking at her image on the screen, her eyes widened as she realized she was still in the thin camisole she slept in, with her hair mussed perfectly enough to make Charles’ thoughts run elsewhere.

She quickly stood and turned around, facing her back to the camera, unintentionally showing Charles her satin pajama short shorts, just long enough to cover the curve of her cheeks. “ _Ohmygod_ let me get changed!” she screamed from the hallway.

On the other end, Charles sat silently, mentally saying a prayer to all the Celtic gods as he felt the sweat begin to bead on his forehead.


	2. Pet Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds an abandoned kitty but her apartment has a one pet policy. Charles takes pity and adopts the cute little sucker (the cat, not Sam.)

The commute from home to work had always been uneventful. Except for her little detours to the Daily Grind, of course. That day however, being too early for anybody else to be at the bus stop, Sam heard a quiet cry coming from a rundown box right below the stop sign. Taking a peek inside, she saw a tiny white kitten with icy blue eyes not unlike a particular Welsh manager she knew.

She picked up the kitty and took her cardigan off to wrap it around him like a blanket. She looked back at the direction of the Daily Grind, contemplating if she should rush there before the bus comes to ask Dee and Link to take care of him until she gets back from work. But just before she could take a step towards that direction, her bus arrived. If she missed this one, she would be late for work. And Samara Young was never late for work. Her anxiety wouldn’t allow it. So she stepped into the bus, bringing the kitty with her, hoping that Charles was in a good enough mood to allow her to bring a stray into the office.

As soon as she entered the lobby, Lucy took notice right away. “Oh my goodness, Sam, that is the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen!” she squealed, drawing way too much unwanted attention.

Hearing the commotion, Charles stepped out of his office to see what it was about. If he were to be entirely honest though, if he had not heard Sam’s name being called, he wouldn’t really care enough to go out of his way to look. Besides, Lucy was always excited about one thing or another, her squeals were hardly special enough to pique his interest nowadays.

What he saw really did surprise him though, as he watched Sam dote on the little kitten nuzzled on her chest.

“Ch-Charles!” She called out, surprised to see him there.

Charles stepped closer to pet the kitty between the ears, feeling the soft vibration against its fur as it closed its eyes and purred.

Sam tried her best to hide her blush at his proximity. “U-um, can I keep him in my office for the day?” she asked, “I just need to make arrangements on who can take care of him. We have a one pet policy at the apartment and Mrs. Whipple is allergic to cats.”

“Just for today, Miss Young. It would be unwise to keep a pet in a company with sensitive computers carrying important data.” Really, the answer should have been ‘no’ right from the beginning, but Charles had given up trying to refuse her long ago, his efforts had always been futile anyway.

The day was almost over and Sam had called everybody she could think of, none of whom were willing to take on the responsibility of pet ownership.

“Why don’t you take him to the shelter?” he asked, body leaning against her open door.

“When shelters are overrun with too many animals, they’ll have to put them down. I don’t want that to happen to him, Charles.” She gave the kitten a little scratch on the neck, still wrapped in the cardigan and perched on her lap. “Or for any other animal the shelter will have to put down by me bringing another one in.”

He watched as her lips formed into a pout, the sadness in her eyes making him feel uneasy. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll keep him.”

She perked up, face lighting up into a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, but I’ll need your help. I haven’t had a pet since I lived with my parents.”

He took her with him to the pet store and she helped him find everything he needed. After, Charles brought Sam and his new kitten to his home, where they organized his place to better suit having an animal.

“What should we name him Samara?” he asked as they lounged on his couch after he made her dinner as a thanks.

She inched closer towards him, taking the kitten from his arms to hold it into hers. “He has blue eyes like yours.” She said. “Pensive and calculating too. And he moves with such grace.” She nuzzled the kitty’s soft fur. “He’s a mini version of you!” she giggled.

She put the cat back on Charles lap. “Can we call him Charlie?” she asked, a small smile on her lips.

“Charlie?” he said, surprised. But the mirth in her eyes made it hard to deny her. “Charlie it is then.”

She smiled even brighter and Charles let himself bask in the simple joy of having her by his side while they take care of their new cat. Okay, it wasn’t officially _theirs_ with the paper work saying he was the sole owner, but he liked the thought of them being co-parents, and he’s damn pressed on making sure of it, despite what the papers said.

“You’ll come over often to help me raise him right?”

“I-if you wish.”

“I do. We need you.” He said, raising one of Charlie’s paw as an attempt to wave. On cue, Charlie let out a little mewl, making Sam laugh.

As they sat on his couch, watching little Charlie fall asleep snuggled on his lap, Sam pondered what she had ever done to end up being so lucky as to have these two gorgeous creatures by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOT MEN AND CUTE ANIMALS I MEAN HELLOOOOOOO


	3. Hat Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a girl who grew up in Cali, Sam totally underpacked for a winter trip to Wales.

It was her first overseas business trip and she was really starting to feel like a grown-up now. Surprisingly, her dad let her and Charles go to Liverpool to meet up with a VIP client, _unsupervised_. But the two days they spent schmoozing up to the client had been uneventful at best, if not completely boring. Charles was all business, and the few moments they had downtime, Charles spent strategizing on how they could better flatter the client so they would agree to his overpriced proposal.

If she were to be honest, Sam had hoped Charles would have opened up more about his past. After all, they were in the country he grew up in, shouldn’t he be showing her cool little local things and telling her childhood stories? Sam wasn’t so bold as to say she and Charles have something special going on between them, but even someone as socially inept as her can see that they have indeed gotten closer and have grown more comfortable with each other.

It’s their third and last day in Liverpool and they don’t have anything on the agenda. The client had been so impressed with the two of them that they officially agreed to the proposal yesterday, as opposed to mulling it over and meeting with them today. With nothing much to do, Sam plans on just relaxing at the hotel, maybe walk around the area later to see what she could do nearby. But just as she finished her bath, preparing to crawl back into bed, Charles knocks on her door, telling her to get ready in 30 minutes and meet him in the lobby.

Apparently Llandudno, the Welsh town Charles grew up in, is only a two hour drive away from Liverpool. Charles had the bright idea to rent a car and take her there to go sightseeing, thinking it would be nice for her to see his hometown, considering all the questions she asks him about his childhood.

After having the best fish and chips of her life, as promised by Charles all those months ago, he takes her to Great Orme, where they can stroll on top of rolling hills while overlooking the sea. She looks up at Charles and she finds herself breathless at the calmness in his features. She loves the way the fringe of his hair, un-gelled and wild, would flutter with the blow of the wind, loves the way his eyes are bluer than the ocean before them.

“I like you like this.” She blurts out just loud enough for him to hear over the gusts of wind.

He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow and she tucks her head into the collar of her jacket to hide her blush.

“I-It suits you. Being here, I mean. Y-you seem to be more at peace.” Shivering as the cold wind seeps through her clothes, she asks, “Did you come here often?” hoping to distract him from her previous blunder.

“Yeah,” he says, leading her to a large jut of rock coming from the ground. “This was my spot.” Smiling at the nostalgia, he sits, watching the waves crash on the small cliff below. “My friends and I would come here a lot. Sometimes I’d come alone to think.”

She finds the courage to sit right next to him, sides flushed against each other. “What kind of things did you think about?” she asks, reveling in the small warmth she gets from the side of his body.

“My career, my future, my…” he hesitates and Sam chooses not to pry. A particularly strong wind blows straight into her face just as she takes a breath, falling into a coughing fit, the icy burn of the wind clinging onto her throat.

“Samara, are you okay?” he takes her hand in his and a chill runs up his spine at how cold she feels. “Bunty, you’re freezing!”

Quickly he stands, taking her up with him. He undoes the scarf around his neck and places it around her, making sure to cover all the exposed skin of her neck. Already she feels warmer just from the remnants of his cologne so close to her nose.

He then takes his knitted hat and places it snugly on her head, gently sweeping her bangs away from her eyes. “Better?” he asks.

“A little.”

He rubs his palms together and takes her hands in between his, bringing it close to his mouth to blow with his hot breath.

“Is it always this cold here?” she asks, inching a bit closer.

Charles chuckles at her innocence. Knowing Samuel, he probably forbade Sam from going to places with cold climates, lest she exacerbates her asthma.

“It gets a lot colder, Bunty.”

Finally having a taste of his warmth, she succumbs defeat to the cold and leans completely on Charles, tucking her head underneath his chin. “Remind me to bring warmer clothes next time,” she says into his chest. “This isn’t like any of the winters I’ve experienced.”

Charles turns her around and sits them back down on the rock, with her snug between his legs. He makes sure there is no space between her back and his chest as he wraps his arms around her torso, her hands still enclosed in his.

“Next time?” She can hear the grin in his voice as his hot breath warms her ear.

“I-I meant next time I go to places with colder winters!” she buries her face into his scarf and Charles only hugs her tighter.

“Shame, I would have loved to take you back home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S Charles worked hard during downtime so he could free up a day in order to take her to his hometown :>
> 
> P.P.S If any of you decide to draw Charles in a knitted hat with a pom pom at the top (because cute), please find a way to let me know. I neeeeed to seeeeeee it. okay thanks


	4. Character Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam would never wear something so daring, but Angela made such beautiful costumes for their cosplay that she just had to wear it. Luckily no one from the office would see her, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT! READ ME!**
> 
> Please look at the link before you start reading. It's Sam's cosplay outfit. I don't have the brain energy to describe something so intricate so it's best if you just look at it and get a picture in your head as you read. k thanks ^_^
> 
> https://www.artstation.com/artwork/YEqqP
> 
> (I love how the artwork actually kinda looks like Sam, even having similar hairstyles. But for the purpose of staying true to their MMORPG characters, imagine Sam with long teal coloured hair. okay thanks byee)

Sam never cosplayed. Like never ever. Because hello! Cosplays meant dressing up and putting yourself out there on display for everybody else to see. It was already hard enough to get her out of her usual outfits of oversized sweaters and leggings, there was no way in the depths of heck she would wear those usually tight, usually too revealing costumes. And don’t even get her started on the itchy wigs and heavy makeup.

Sure she supports and admires those who actually do cosplay. They put so much time and effort into their costumes and they have the confidence to rock it. But Samara was not one of those people. She’ll support her faves by wearing their merch. That is all.

But Angela and Vikki _were_ one of those people. So much so that they would spend months planning and making their costumes. Sam loved helping them though, giving her input or lending a hand. She loved seeing the process and even more so when her friends would put on the complete outfit for the first time. She could admit that she felt a little jealous when her friends looked so sexy and gorgeous and ethereal with their larger-than-life looks, but she could easily get over it if it meant avoiding the stares of the masses.

For this year’s Comic Con though, Sam didn’t hear any news about Angela and Vikki’s costumes. She knew they were going, they had all gotten the tickets together, after all. So Sam just assumed they were too busy to make new ones, probably just re-purposing old costumes.

So really, she was taken by surprise when Angela and Vikki called her over just days before the Comic Con, saying there was something they needed to show her.

When the door to their apartment opened, Sam was greeted with Angela looking exactly like her MMORPG character, wing headdress and armour so realistic Sam suspected it could actually protect her in a physical fight. And then out came Vikki looking like _her_ MMORPG counterpart, complete with the cloth around her eyes.

“How can you even see?” she blurted out, amazed at how similar they both looked to their characters.

“The fabric is see-through.” Vikki said, waving her hand in front of her eyes.

“You guys, this is really awesome!” she gushed. “But how come you never told me?”

“Because,” they simultaneously said, “we have a surprise.” The grins on their faces looked so cunning it was enough to make Sam gulp.

Angela rolled out a dress form and Vikki handed her a teal coloured wig.

.

.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to wear this! You’re lucky I love you guys.” She huffed.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt really silly dressed as a sexy mage. Apparently her character’s in-game outfit was too frumpy, which Angela complained required too much fabric. So she took the artistic liberty of designing a totally different outfit, completed with thigh high boots, a mini skirt, and a piece of cloth that Sam could barely call a top.

“I look insane!” she whined.

“Oh hush, we’re as decked out as you. Does that make us insane too?”

“Yeah, insanely _hot_. But I look like a kid playing dress-up.”

“What kind of kid has a body like that?”

“Sam, you look gorgeous. It’s like you stepped out of the game itself.” Vikki piped in.

“And besides, you probably won’t see anybody you know there, and if you do, I doubt they’ll even recognize you.” Angela said, finishing with the final details of Sam’s costume. “Don’t worry and try to have fun. It _is_ like playing dress-up. But instead of a kid, you’re a total babe.” She winked at Sam and ushered her out the door.

“Come on girls, Comic Con won’t know what hit ‘em!”

.

.

Sam was having way more fun than she thought she would, especially considering she was essentially half-naked. Angela was right though, it _was_ like dress-up. She was free to move about in disguise. Right now she wasn’t Sam, she was Ariadne, the ass-kicking wild mage. No one would ever know she was just your average girl with boring brown eyes and even duller brown hair, spending most of her days sitting in an office –

“Samara?” she heard his voice before she felt his hand around her wrist.

“Ch-Charles?!” she could feel all the goosebumps rise from every inch of her exposed skin. “W-What are you doing here?!”

“A friend of mine was part of a panel about puzzle games. He invited me to listen in.” He brushed the back of his neck with his other hand, taking glimpses at her but quickly looking away.

“Samara, you look…”

He couldn’t seem to find the words to finish his sentence and all Sam wanted to do was run the heck out of there. Obviously Charles was disgusted with how she dressed. Not only was she looking like an idiot in pointy ears and unnaturally coloured hair, she was also certain that Charles found it ridiculous and unsightly for someone like her to be showing so much skin.

She tried to flee but his hand on her wrist slid down into her own, keeping her in place.

“Samara, you look absolutely stunning.” he said, blush forming in his cheeks. The way his eyes ravaged her from head to toe didn't go unnoticed, and his gaze should have made her feel uncomfortable, but instead she felt that familiar tickle within her stomach, the kind she would always get whenever Charles came too close. 

"If you're not busy..." she said, toes pointed together and eyes not meeting his own. "D-Do you wanna maybe come walk around with me and my friends?" From behind her, she heard Vikki let out a small squeal, and then a hushed _'_ _shoot your shot, girl'_ from Angela. 

"It would be my pleasure." he said, lacing his fingers in between hers. 

.

.

"If our costume helps Sam get laid tonight, do you think her dad will find out and have our heads stuffed and mounted on his wall by morning?" Angela asked Vikki, watching how Charles couldn't keep his hands off their friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you look at the link like i said or did you go rogue and imagined your own costume? Lol
> 
> Not very much Charm in this, and their interaction seemed rushed. But like, the prompt was character and I had no other ideas so I just went along with it.
> 
> Also ya'll, I now have to clear my browser history for searching things like: sexy cosplay, sexy mage cosplay, sexy mage, sexy female mage.


	5. Green Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kiss me," he says, grin all sly. "I'm one-eighth Irish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place months after chapter 3!

She was already having the worst luck and her day had barely started.

Waking up late this morning, she didn’t have time to brew her favourite cup of coffee, neither would she have time to drop by the Daily Grind. Which meant that she would have to settle for the dirtwater they called coffee at the office.

To make things worse, as she was running down the stairs to catch the bus, her glasses dropped from her face and of course, _of course,_ they just _had_ to land right where her next step was going to be. All it took was a definitive crack to accept the fact that she was just going to be blind for today. No biggie, it’s not like vision was essential, especially not when she had a stack of documents to go through and Jacob’s work to double check.

And now, while waiting at the bus stop, a car zooms past her, splashing her with the muddy puddle by the curb. Her hair tangled and her sweater soaked, she takes a deep breath and hopes that whatever deity is fooling with her today has had enough of their fun.

On her way into work, she is reminded once again why vision is important bcause it turns out that it was very difficult going through a revolving door nearly blind – she has a fresh bump on her forehead to prove it.

“Ooh, you okay Sam? I saw that.” Lucy says, looking vaguely green.

“M’fine.” Sam answers, rubbing the sore spot on her head. “Just having a crappy morning.”

“Well today’s St. Patrick’s Day,” she says, placing a plastic shamrock necklace around her neck. “Perfect day to turn your luck around.”

Sam squints at her friend and sees with a bit more clarity that Lucy was decked out in all green. Green shirt, green vest, green skirt, and a thick green headband with clovers pointing up like antennas.

She huffs a response and heads straight into Charles’ office. The quicker she finishes those dreaded morning exercises, the quicker she can lock herself into her own and strip her sweater off before the water seeps into her camisole. And then she can just text her dad and ask him if he could lend her a shirt and pick up her extra pair of glasses.

Entering his office, she’s greeted with a melodious laugh.

“What on Earth happened to you?” he asks, finding amusement at the sight of her stained shirt, red forehead, and bright green necklace to boot. He takes two strides towards her, arms extending to motion her closer.

She walks into his arms and tells him every excruciating thing that happened within the past hour, all while he combs through her hair with his fingers, gently untangling the strands.

Pleased with his work, Charles lets go of her and walks towards his desk drawer.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?” she looks at him as if she were scandalized.

“Your sweater’s wet and cold. Take it off before your father makes me bring you to the hospital.” He comes back with his spare shirt in hand and Sam remembers the time he literally took the shirt off his back to give to her. Now that their relationship had shifted, she kind of wishes he would have done the same thing today. She could use a little show to make up for the terrible morning, and yes, even if she wouldn’t really be able to see his abs, she knows they’re there.

“You’ve got to stop lending me your shirts, Charles. I can always borrow from my dad’s.” Despite her refusal, she takes the hem of her sweater and lifts it off in one smooth motion while stepping closer so he could place his shirt around her shoulders.

“But I love the way you look in them.” He says, a smug grin in place.

Blush forming in her cheeks she bows her head, fingers beginning to work on the buttons. He intercepts, taking the shirt from her hands and looping each button for her, so painstakingly slow.

Sam can feel the heat of his body radiating into her, can feel his even breaths at the top of her head.

He straightens her collar and smooths the fabric on her shoulders, but before she could step back to tuck the front, he places a firm hand on her waist, the other snaking up to her neck.

“I know how to turn your luck around.” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper.

She looks up at him, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“Kiss me,” lips brushing against hers. “I’m one-eighth Irish.”


	6. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first kiss didn't work. But that's fine, it just means they'll have to try 7 more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex commented on the previous chapter about needing to kiss 8 times since Charles was only 1/8th Irish. Shout out to Alex, you da G.O.A.T, da MVP, da .... i dunno im out of ideas.
> 
> borderline crackish. Idk if Charles would actually be like this in canon but let me have fun okay.
> 
> and as always, im doing this because i'm procrastinating having to write the next chapter of the space between us :)

_“I know how to turn your luck around.” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper._

_She looks up at him, eyebrows raised in inquiry._

_“Kiss me,” lips brushing against hers. “I’m one-eighth Irish.”_

* * *

Her soft lips tremble against the pressure of his, the moment over before she could enjoy it.

“Wha-?”

Charles turns her around, gently guiding her out of his office with his hand on the small of her back. “Get to work, Miss Young. We’ll talk about this later.”

The last thing her blurry eyes sees before she is ushered out of his office is his face full of satisfaction, as if he had finished a puzzle in record time.

.

.

The first thing he hears is her muffled scream, followed by her own concoction of censored swears.

In 6 long strides he is by her door, immediately assaulted by the smell of coffee.

She is standing by her desk, her spare wire framed glasses on her nose, laptop in her arms, and eyes shooting daggers at the coffee stained papers on the tabletop.

“The luck of the Irish is a myth.” She grumbles, heading to the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels while Charles begins to sort through the papers, deeming which were necessary and which can be thrown away.

With her desk now clean and her papers sorted, she thanks Charles for his help, standing up so she could walk him out of her office. He gets in between her and the door before she could reach the knob, so close her nose almost bumps into his chest.

“Do not wound my ancestors by calling them unlucky Miss Young.” Fingertips raising her chin. “We simply need to try again.”

He stops her protests by taking her lips for another quick kiss.

He is gone before she can process what in the heck just happened _again._

.

.

She barges into his office shortly after, demanding answers for his odd behaviour.

"Miss Young," he tells her, "Since I am only 1/8th Irish, it appears that we must kiss 8 times for full luck to take effect." Rubbing his fingers on his chin as if pondering life's greatest questions, he adds, "I do vaguely remember my uncles drunkenly joking about it in the pub..."

She gawks at his serious expression, bewildered at the fact that he seems to actually believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Are you properly hearing yourself? You sound ridiculous!” exasperated she briskly turns around, intent on making a dramatic exit, when she trips on her own feet and faceplants on the floor.

Stifling his laughter, Charles gently takes an elbow to help her up, eyes roaming her body for any injuries. “Are you alright?” he asks, little chortles escaping him. “I told you, Miss Young, we have to –”

Desperate and enraged at whatever force of the universe is playing these cruel tricks on her, she places her hands on his shoulders, tiptoes bringing her lips closer to his forehead.

“Three.” she says, giving a peck above his brows. “Four.” on his cheek. “Five-"

He turns his head, his lips catching hers just before they meet his other cheek. His hand snakes behind her head before she could pull back, tilting it a little to deepen the kiss.

A small moan is drawn out of her mouth, and he risks sweeping the tip of his tongue on her bottom lip.

Her eyes dart open at the sensation of something warm and wet, hands on his chest pushing him away.

“Don’t” she pants, frantic. “Don’t kiss me like that if it doesn’t mean anything to you!” she wipes her swollen lips with the back of her hand and Charles must clench the edge of his desk to prevent himself from kissing her again.

“Samara, what - where is all this coming from?” he thought he’d made clear of his interest in her with all the gestures he’d done for nobody else but her.

“I-I never know if you’re just teasing me or if you’re actually being sincere.”

“When we had that trip to Wales a while back, did it seem like I was teasing?” he steps closer, eyes imploring her to look at him.

“N-No, but I also don’t want to put meaning onto your simple acts of kindness. I don’t want to assume anything and risk being a fool.”

Hands on her waist he asks, “Do you think I would do this to just anybody?” she turns her head away from his, prompting him to take her cheek in his palm, thumb brushing against her lip as her gaze focuses back on him.

“Samara, I like you.”

He kisses her again, gently, tenderly. Patiently waiting for her response before he takes the kiss deeper.

Her mouth parts slightly as she drags her hands up his chest and shoulders, stopping at his nape as she finds tufts of hair to coil her fingers into. Driven by the steady pressure of his lips, she presses her body closer against his, revelling in the groan he made when she gripped his hair to do so.

There is a tightening in her chest and for a moment she wonders if this is the sparks and fireworks written in all those books she’s read as a teen, but it quickly grows uncomfortable, realizing it was her lungs' cry for air.

She breaks from the kiss, gasping, cheeks pink from both the intimacy and lack of oxygen.

“Six.” He says, voice breathy. “Two more to go, Samara.”

.

.

He takes her to dinner that night, adamant on clarifying that it was indeed a date. And like a true gentleman he drives her home and walks her to her door.

“I guess this is goodnight.” She says, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “But,” she tilts her head up, taking him by surprise as she steals a light peck from his mouth. “I still have one more to go.”

.

.

By the time they had their eighth ( _ninth, tenth, she stopped counting when they started doing more than just kissing_ ), they were in her bed, hearts full and bodies exhausted.

Drifting off to sleep in the comfort of Charles’ arms, Sam thinks that perhaps the folklore wasn’t all nonsense, because she can definitely say they _both_ got lucky that night.


End file.
